In Need of a Doctor
by Teddicus Lupini
Summary: This story is set after the events of Reichenbach, with John's road to recovery after what happens to Sherlock.  **Keep in mind that this is still being written**
1. Chapter 1

Wholock - In need of a Doctor

John ran towards the waters, but knew from instinct that he was already too late. Sherlock and Moriarty were locked in combat, either one of them were sure to kill the other at any moment. The drop itself was enough to spread their bodies like strawberry jam. As skilled a marksman as John was, he didn't dare risk it from the distance he was from the two of them. There was no telling who would receive the bullet once he pulled the trigger. He just stood before the water, waiting in unendurable agony to see which way fate would turn. For what seemed to only be a tiny moment, John suddenly realised how lost he would be if he were to loose Sherlock. They'd both left lasting impacts on each other's lives, and neither had ever considered the notion of ever leaving each other. It was in this moment that John braced himself for the worst. The two figures in the distance were brawling and wrestling on the side of a rock, just by the edge of the mighty drop. For the moment, it seemed that Sherlock was overpowering Moriarty, and all was going to go down rather well, but for just a brief moment, it looked as though Sherlock noticed something that Moriarty either didn't notice too, or didn't care for, John never knew. It was in this concise interval from combat that Moriarty used to his advantage. He pushed Sherlock over the edge, but Sherlock seemed ready for this, as he grabbed the jacket of his mortal enemy as he fell, and together they both plummeted to their doom. All that was audible as a tiny, unnoticeable tear poured neatly down John's cheek was the sound of Moriarty's final wicked shriek as John watched in horror as the two bodies fell down the Reichenbach fall. The disturbance on the water's surface lasted until dark.

Summer ended and John still felt no merriment. Wether it was worse that Mycroft felt unperturbed by the news or that Molly was still convinced that "Jim" was a perfectly innocent man, John could not tell. John began to notice his difficulty with walking again, and his memories of the war began to lurk his dreams again each night, it was like being around Sherlock had been a cure for his pains. When someone close to him had perished in the past, people found comforting and relating to him easy, but with Sherlock, no one could understand the way they clicked, or how Sherlock could even have emotions. Over the weeks that followed the events in Reichenbach, several of Sherlock's work colleagues and accomplices came to pay their respects to the world's first **and** last consulting detective. Many of them like Lestrade were very respectful and comforting, others were as mixed as a bag of nuts. John had never faced a more cumbersome, awkward experience in whole his life than having to hear Anderson and Donovan's 'kind' regards to Sherlock. In fact, John was so uncomfortable during the experience that he had to excuse himself halfway through, pretending to be emotionally overwhelmed by the loss of Sherlock (which in fairness, he kind of was) but in actuality he just couldn't stand the sound of their voices and the tones they used when using Sherlock's name. He took this opportunity to take a stroll around the suburbs surrounding Baker Street. As he wandered, he could feel the faintest trace of the lifeblood of the thrills he shared with Sherlock on their many adventures.

For reasons unclear to John, he felt the need to revisit the locations of the many cases he solved with the great detective. Mainly out of sentimentality, he chose to relive the 'taxi driver case' A Study in Pink.He took a short visit to his tiny flat he was supplied by the military after his services in Afghanistan. Having little to no memories of this short period in his life, John proceeded to St Bart's hospital where he first encountered Mr Holmes, where he life was changed forever.

It was upon entering the morgue that he received a phone call from D.I Lestrade, asking for John to come to the station as soon as it would be convenient for him. Seeing as his nostalgic trip wasn't doing him much good, he reluctantly journeyed to the police office.

Lestrade was waiting for John, and he was holding Sherlock's laptop with a pair of fresh-looking white gloves. Behind him was an entire tabletop full of Sherlock's personal devices and belongings.

"We searched Sherlock's personal belongings, because well…" Lestrade's voice trailed off for a moment "We really wanted to know why he welcomed death so openly… and really, just wanted to understand him at last..." John just stood there awkwardly.

"But what we thought you should know is…" John prepared himself to what he was expecting to be Sherlock's version of a suicide note, but instead he was flooded with the greatest mixture of contrasting emotions.

"We hired some computer experts to find his password so we could get in, and we thought you should know what is was..." John just stood there quietly, knowing what simple word would follow.

"Tell me." he said simply and quietly.

"**John**." It was just those four letters. Lestrade could see the hurt in John's eyes, and respectfully decided to leave him alone in the room.

John kept his head up, he was used to holding in tears. Military training seemed to be paying off. Yet the harder he tried to hold it in, the harder it became to do so. As soon as he was sure that Lestrade wasn't coming back into the room, he felt his whole word shatter into nothingness. He didn't care if anyone saw him, it didn't matter. Sherlock, the most important man in his life, was gone.

Over the next few days John made it part of his daily routine to continue his nostalgia trips. Although he would only visit one place each day, it was always what made them worthwhile. It was on one of these short trips that he remembered his first encounter with Sherlock's only known living relative, Mycroft Homes. He quite easily remembered the exact location of the phone booth in which Mycroft called him. Much to John's surprise, when he revisited the street in which the event occurred roughly two years prior, he found that the red glass panelled booth was replaced by a rather chunky, yet fresh looking blue wooden box, with the words "Police Public Call Box" written upon the top.


	2. Chapter 2

John didn't think much of this peculiarity at the time, but it was only after a busy crowd had unintentionally pushed him out of the way (and towards the mysterious box) in order to pass did John notice a very distinct humming noise originating (somehow) from deep within.

It was then that he received a text message that snapped him out of this moment.

There's something I'd like to show you. Be at my office A.S.A.P

- Mycroft

John reluctantly decided to do as Mycroft had requested. If it were possible to avoid taking taxis, he would. Even if he had to walk several miles without his stick. He could bear the physical pain of fatigue, but he could never bear the emotional hurt of being reminded of the customs of his high-functioning sociopath.

When he eventually reached the door to Mycroft's office after many delays, he found his first memory of entering the office was almost tangible. John shook himself out of his memory, in order to focus on the matter at hand.

"I understand the police found the circumstances of my dear brother's life just prior to his 'death' as rather suspicious" Mycroft began. "It is for that reason that they searched his records on his personal devices."

John felt his heart rate increase just slightly as he anticipated the 'password talk' to occur yet again.

"Being as oblivious as they are, they took no notice of the connection between these two oddities."

John raised a questionable look, curious as to what Mycroft would divulge.

"I'd like you to send a text to Sherlock's phone right now" requested Mycroft.

John did as he was told, and sent a simple full stop as a message, yet he couldn't help but sign it with his initials, as he always did when texting Sherlock.

"Under his contacts he has a number registered as Doctor.W, notice that the text you just sent comes up as an unregistered number, as was custom for you and my brother whilst texting." Mycroft deliberately left a gap for John to speak.

"But he never saved my number, that's why we always signed our texts." explained John.

"Oh yes, I'm aware. The 'W' definitely doesn't stand for 'Watson' like the force so dully assumed."

John stood with a puzzled expression.

"The number is disconnected. I checked it out, it's an old number, given the first few digits it likely belonged to an emergency service, most likely police. It's my theory that my brother left this as a clue for you, a lead of sorts. " Mycroft finished speaking.

John knew he wouldn't be able to get straight onto a trail after discovering the news. He had very basic skills of deduction on his good days. How did Sherlock expect him to follow such a vague lead? In normal situations, Sherlock was given a basic context of a given scene in which he would unravel the threads of mystery and tie them all up in a neat bow. But the matter at hand in Sherlock's phone was going to take a while.

Mostly out of low hopes for ever finding what the unknown number had to do with anything, John decided to search the phone number into google.

Nothing of relevance came up, even after a thorough search of each webpage.

John followed this search up with another, this time searching the name "Doctor.W".

Again, nothing of relevance to anything came up. All the search gave John was the resumes of several British and American doctors.

Getting irritated, John decided to make one more search before giving up.

He typed the words "Doctor.W police phone number" and to his surprise a suggestion appeared. Under the google search for "Doctor.W police phone box" was a picture from an old webpage that looked as though it hadn't been updated since the dawn of the internet. It was titled 'Doctor Who?' accompanied with a picture resembling the old blue wooden box that John saw just a few hours prior.


End file.
